


The Caster

by Trexi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Episode: s02e12 The Fires of Idirsholas, Gen, Magic Reveal, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trexi/pseuds/Trexi
Summary: Merlin takes a page out of Uther’s book and goes after the caster of the sleeping curse instead (Multi-POV).
Comments: 26
Kudos: 233





	1. Won't be manipulated

**MERLIN**

The hemlock sits innocently on Gaius’s shelf, so easy for me to take, to use against one of my closest friends. Because that’s what I have to do. To save Camelot, I must kill Morgana. That much the Great Dragon made perfectly clear. The old lizard will be delighted that I took her out of the picture before she had a chance to fulfil her supposed destiny. He’s probably be waiting for a chance like this ever since the first time he declared her my enemy. But this is Morgana. The same woman whose heart breaks at the sight of innocents suffering. Does she even know what Morgause has been using her for?

I doubt Morgana would’ve agreed to be a vessel for a spell that could destroy Camelot, even if she does hate Uther. She’d never make innocents suffer for her own revenge. That’s just not who Morgana is. She would’ve raged against Morgause if the witch had suggested such a thing before casting … the spell. Morgause cast the spell. And if there’s one thing everybody knows about magic, even Uther Pendragon, it’s that killing the caster always ends the spell. I don’t need to kill Morgana at all. If anything, she’s going to need someone on her side when she learns that Morgause manipulated her. Just like the Great Dragon tried to do to me today, using my duty to protect Camelot and Arthur against me.

Well, I won’t be manipulated.

The Great Dragon may have won his freedom by taking advantage of my moment of weakness, but he won’t make me kill my friend. I refuse. If that means manoeuvring around Arthur and Morgana to fight against Morgause, then so be it. The witch will have the advantage of the knights, and my own growing exhaustion, yet that doesn’t mean she’ll win. If there’s one good thing about being Arthur’s manservant, it’s that my enemies always underestimate me. I look forward to taking full advantage of that.

The hemlock stays untouched on Gaius’s shelf, as I leave to hunt down Morgause.


	2. Whatever happened to Nimueh?

**MERLIN**

It’d be easier to find Morgause if I didn’t have to keep avoiding the hallways that Arthur is stalking through. Somehow, I manage to almost run into him three times before I finally come across the witch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Arthur was tracking me instead of the Knights of Medhir. It would be so like the prat to do that. I doubt it’d be out of concern for my safety either. He probably wants me to fetch him a pillow or something equally ridiculous when we’re meant to be doing our best to stay awake. At least he isn’t here now.

Morgause doesn’t look impressed at all to see me. “Merlin, was it?”

“Morgause,” I greet, warily eyeing her three knight escorts.

I’m not sure where the other four knights are, but I can only hope that they’re keeping Arthur busy, just not killing him busy.

“I have to say. I wasn’t expecting you,” Morgause says.

“I find that most threats to Camelot rarely do.”

She laughs. “Was that supposed to be some sort of warning, boy?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you told your dear sister that you were going to use her as the focus for this little sleeping curse of yours.”

Morgause steps closer, and the knights move to surround me. “What Morgana knows won’t hurt her.”

I shake my head. “You have no idea how close I came to proving that wrong.”

She stills. “What are you talking about?”

“All it would’ve taken was a little hemlock in a water skin and the spell would’ve been lifted. Simple really,” I say, enjoying the panic in her eyes. “Lucky for Morgana, I decided that I’d rather my friend lives, and I figured out another way to lift the curse.”

Morgause scoffs. “You mean to kill me? I’m a High Priestess of the Old Religion. You’re a mere servant who knows too much.”

“You’ll find that I’m much more than that.”

The magic comes easily to me, no spells, no incantations, just pure instinct, and I blast the three knights out the window. I may not be able to kill them without Excalibur, but that doesn’t mean I can’t delay them while I deal with Morgause.

“You’re a sorcerer!” the witch exclaims.

“Warlock,” I correct. “I thought you of all people would understand the difference.”

“Yet you fight for Camelot?” she questions. “You should be on my side, putting an end to Uther’s blood reign, not protecting it.”

I let my eyes turn their natural gold and tilt my head to the side. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Morgause. You should be asking who’s stood in the way of all threats to Camelot, magical or otherwise, over the past two years. You should be asking who became the Master of Life and Death to save their Prince from the Questing Beast’s mortal bite. And really, you should be asking yourself this, Morgause. Whatever happened to Nimeuh? You’ll find the answer standing before you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is from Arthur's POV.


	3. Traitor

**ARTHUR**

Of all times for my incompetent excuse of a manservant to go missing in the middle of the bloody castle, it has to be now. I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is just so typical of Merlin. For a moment there, I honestly thought that he’d be taking the threat to the kingdom—to my father—seriously, but no, the idiot has to waste my time trying to find his worthless behind instead of doing all that I can to stop these invincible knights. I’d think that he had succumbed to this sleeping curse, if I hadn’t caught sight of him running around several corners after seeing me.

If he thought he was being subtle, then he is sorely mistaken. Merlin wouldn’t know subtle if it–

“You’re a sorcerer!”

I slam myself back against the wall and force myself to stay there instead of running the sword clenched in my hand through the traitor.

“Warlock,” he says, not denying it. “I thought you of all people would understand the difference.”

If I run out there right now, then I’ll be blowing my cover in front of two hostiles, but if I shift to that alcove while they’re distracted with their sorcerer talk, then I’ll be in a better position to watch the outcome of their inevitable truce.

“Yet you fight for Camelot?” Morgause says, making me pause a moment. “You should be on my side, putting an end to Uther’s blood reign, not protecting it.”

I move to the alcove and force my hopes down. The traitor has been using magic for who knows how long. Surely, he’ll take Morgause’s offer. Even if he doesn’t, I am bound by law to ensure that no sorcerer lives in Camelot. Never mind that the traitor, whose eyes now burn gold, used to be the closest thing I ever had to a friend.

The traitor’s voice turns colder than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Morgause. You should be asking who’s stood in the way of all threats to Camelot, magical or otherwise, over the past two years. You should be asking who became the Master of Life and Death to save their Prince from the Questing Beast’s mortal bite. And really, you should be asking yourself this, Morgause. Whatever happened to Nimeuh? You’ll find the answer standing before you.”

Morgause laughs. “Did you really think that I would believe such a see-through lie?”

The traitor shrugs. “Sorry. I must’ve thought that you had some sort of intelligence. By all means though, prove me wrong. I dare you.”

Of course, the idiot has to go ahead and challenge a clearly more experienced magic-user like that isn’t going to get him killed. No. I refuse to worry over a servant’s wellbeing, let alone one who’s also a secret warlock, whatever that is.

Despite that, I still can’t help flinching when the sorceress summons a fireball of all things and throws it at the traitor. He bats aside a fireball from Morgause like it’s as easy as dodging a thrown goblet.

“I’d rather not take another of one of those to the chest,” the traitor says. “I’m sure you understand.”

Morgause sneers.

The traitor huffs. “Nimeuh didn’t either. To be fair to her though, her fireball actually hit. She certainly wasn’t expecting me to survive that.”

“Who trained you?” Morgause asks, throwing three fireballs this time.

The traitor throws up a shield. The fireballs disintegrate against it.

“Nobody,” he says. “Well, the Great Dragon gave me some vague guidance, but he’s too self-interested to actually train me. Mostly, it’s just instinct with a little help from a spell book.”

“That’s impossible.”

The traitor shrugs. “The druids do call me Emrys for some reason, something about being the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, but I don’t really believe them.”

“You cannot be Emrys. That would make a Pendragon the Once and Future King.”

“Oh, good, you can use basic logic,” the traitor says. “Tell me then, High Priestess Morgause, what chance do you think you have against me? I could’ve stopped this entire thing by now if I’d wanted to risk one of my dearest friends, but unlike you, I don’t use those I care about.”

Could’ve fooled me.

“Morgana wanted Uther dead,” Morgause says, and I have to use all of my court training to not yell out that she’s lying. “I’m merely helping.”

“She wanted to feel safe,” the traitor says, the very air cracking around him. “You turned her fear of the King into hatred of him because it suited your needs. Nimueh was at least acting out of personal betrayal and knew better than to go after Arthur. What’s your excuse?”

“You think that little prince is the Once and Future King then?” Morgause scoffs.

The traitor lifts his chin in a familiar gesture of insolence. “I know it. I’ve seen the potential in him. Arthur will unite all of Albion, and I won’t let anyone ruin that. He is my friend, he is my King, and he is the other half of my destiny. Do you really think you can stand in the way of that?”

I don’t know what makes me do it. It’s completely ridiculous of me, a fool’s idea, the very worst choice I could make in the moment. But despite all that, I still step out of the alcove and point my sword at Morgause, ignoring the traitor’s full body flinch beside me.

“I’d listen to him if I were you,” I say. “Merlin has the unfortunate tendency to be right almost every time.”

“Only almost?” Mer– the traitor asks, his teasing tone wavering.

“I’m not going to lie to her face, _Mer_ lin.”

He gives me a small smile. I look back at the one enemy I can be sure about.

“Lift the curse, and we’ll spare your life,” I say.

Morgause scowls. “I won’t bow to the demands of a Pendragon. And I refuse to believe that you two are the prophesied Once and Future King and Emrys.”

Two of the Knights of Medhir approach from behind us.

Merlin, _the traitor_ , chuckles. “I see you need a little more proof.” He holds out his left hand, and it glows a bright gold. When the glow fades, the most beautiful sword I’ve seen in my life appears. Merlin holds it out to me. “Here, your majesty. You’ll find Excalibur a little more effective at handling immortal knights.”

I sheathe my current sword, take this so-called Excalibur, and turn to the knights. “If this doesn’t work…”

“Yes, yes. You’ll fire me.” 

I still don’t know if I’m going to have to banish you.

“Dungeons. For a week,” I say instead.

“You do realise that if this fails, we’re all going to die?”

I twirl the sword. The balance is perfect.

“Don’t be such a pessimist, Merlin.”

“I’m a warlock living in the heart of Camelot,” he says, as I duck a strike to my neck and deflect another to my torso. “Being a pessimist keeps me alive.”

“I imagine the lying would play a part too,” I say, deflecting a third strike and taking the opening it creates to swing Excalibur at my opponent’s ribs.

The knight explodes into a pile of ash, and the other one makes a truly inhuman sound as it lashes out at me.

“What the hell is this sword made of?” I ask, parrying blow after blow in quick succession.

Merlin shouts something in another language at Morgause that tints the entire hallway a moss green. “Just forged it in a dragon’s breath,” he says.

“Oh, just a dragon’s breath,” I retort, as two more Knights of Medhir enter the fray right as I defeat the second one. “Any chance you could help with these?”

“Little busy right now,” Merlin says, shouting another spell that makes the entire castle shake.

“Do try not to break the castle, Merlin.”

“You probably don’t want to hear about that window I broke when I blasted three knights out of it then.”

“Not unless you killed them.”

“Only delayed them, I’m afraid.”

I pull off a manoeuvre that would make tournament crowds cheer and defeat both of my opponents in a single spin. Of course, the moment the dust clears, the three defenestrated knights storm into the hallway.

“Well, apparently you didn’t delay them enough,” I say, as I’m forced to go on the defensive else find out just how much damage the undead knights’ blades can do. “Tell me, _Mer_ lin, how exactly are you the most powerful sorcerer to ever live if you can’t even handle one opponent when I’ve defeated four?”

The castle shakes again. And then because Merlin is incapable of following instructions, the floor cracks apart too.

“MERLIN!”

“Busy, Arthur!”

I barely dodge a strike to my neck. “You’re going to be busy in the stocks for the next month.”

“I think I can fix it.”

“You _think_?”

“Oh, shut up!” Morgause snaps.

“End the sleeping curse,” Merlin retorts.

Through pure skill (luck), I get a strike to a knight’s leg, which is apparently enough for Excalibur to get the job done. The two remaining knights try to split my focus by one of them flanking me. I tune out Merlin and Morgause’s argument, so that it’s easier to whirl between the two knights, knocking back one strike, only to pivot on my heel to deflect another. An inhuman screeching noise comes from Merlin’s direction, but I can’t afford the distraction. Deflect, pivot, repeat. Don’t stop. Don’t hesitate. Don’t lose momentum. Check for any openings. Ignore their feints. They don’t tire.

But I do.

I pivot back to deflect a strike that comes too quick.

“FLEOGE!”

Excalibur flies out of my hand and into the knight’s stomach, which explodes into a cloud of dust. I lurch forward to catch the sword and barely manage to block the strike from the final knight. My movements may be sluggish, but I’m still the best knight in all of Camelot. A single Knight of Medhir has nothing on me. Our swords meet five times before I find and take my opening. The knight turns to dust, and I lean on Excalibur to stay upright.

“Took you long enough,” Merlin says.

I look up to the warlock, _the traitor_ , and can’t help laughing. His face is covered in soot, except for a stretch across his eyes. I guess a sorcerer of prophecy can’t block everything that comes with a fireball, no matter how powerful he may be.

“Where’s Morgause?” I ask, noting that there’s no body.

Merlin shrugs. “She must’ve teleported away when I had to pause our fight to save your royal behind.”

“And the curse?”

His eyes flash gold. The only thing keeping me from flinching is sheer exhaustion.

“Gone,” Merlin says. “We’re probably the only ones in Camelot who are remotely tired. Maybe that means we can have the rest of the day off.”

“Don’t even think about resting until you fix this floor, Merlin, and preferably before a newly awake castle comes through here and sees you casting magic.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re uh okay with that then?”

“I don’t see that I have much of a choice,” I lie. There’s always a choice, but I’m not entirely sure that the one my father would make is the right one. “There’s apparently a prophecy about us.”

“Don’t worry about that. All you have to do is unite Albion while being your usual noble self. I’ve got the hard part.”

I ignore the fact that Merlin seems to believe that I’m capable of doing what no other has done before, even though I’m still very much a prince.

“And what part is that?” I ask instead of questioning his non-existent sanity.

“Keeping you alive.”

I go to roll my eyes, but stop at seeing his serious expression. “Fix the floor, Merlin. I need to check on the King.”

“Yes, sire.”

He turns around and starts muttering in the forbidden language.

I hesitate. “If you were smart, you’d be out of Camelot before I could bring any guards your way.”

“You’re holding a sword that kills the undead, Arthur. I’m sure that it would work just as well against the most powerful sorcerer to walk the Earth.”

For a moment, just one single moment, I consider it. And then the moment passes. I hand Excalibur back to my friend and leave him muttering repair spells in a broken hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I realise that this chapter is more than double the word count of the previous two chapters combined? Yes. But I started writing this fic around the same time I wrote Minor Burn (the first fic I posted to Ao3), and the only way I could work past my writer’s block on it was to have wildly inconsistent chapter lengths. I thought about making the fic a long one-shot, but it just didn’t seem right. So here we are.


	4. Loyalties

**ARTHUR**

Morgana finds me before I find her and Father. She looks almost as exhausted as I feel, so I guess whatever it is Gaius gave her to combat the sleeping curse has worn off. My sister in all but blood doesn’t even have a sharp retort for me when she finds me limping—without looking like I’m limping because I have an image to uphold—through the hallway. She just sighs and turns to lead me to Father.

“The Knights of Medhir are defeated and Morgause has fled,” I tell her. “Hopefully, it will be some time before she devises another attack on Camelot.”

“Hopefully,” Morgana echoes.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

She gives me her usual ‘you’re being an idiot’ glare, but it’s half-hearted at best.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” I say.

Morgana rolls her eyes.

“Perhaps you should return to your chambers and rest,” I suggest. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

“Says you,” she retorts.

“I have to check on the King and report what happened.”

“And are you going to mention that your manservant used magic to fight Morgause?”

I don’t let myself react. “You really must be exhausted if you’ve begun hallucinating.”

Morgana grabs my arm and yanks me into a nearby alcove. “Save it, Arthur. I’m sick and tired of people lying to my face under some misguided attempt at protecting me. I know what I saw. Merlin didn’t just match Morgause’s magic; he was beating it. And he _still_ had the gall to lie to my face and tell me that I was imagining things when I begged him to confirm that I wasn’t insane to think that I had magic.”

Of course. Of bloody course it can’t just be one person I trust with my life that has magic. That would make it too easy, wouldn’t it? Is it too much to ask that everyone could stop with the secrets? How am I meant to go to my father and not tell him about the two sorcerers at the heart of Camelot? Magic has destroyed so many lives. It’s meant to be pure evil. But if it really were, then why would Merlin and Morgana look so frightened by my reaction? Why would two people who despise suffering have magic? Why would Father punish those with magic so harshly if everyone with it weren’t devoting their lives to hurting others?

“Is there any chance that you could simply stop using magic?” I ask, my voice betraying just how desperate I feel.

“That’s not how it works, Arthur.” 

“Of course it isn’t,” I mutter. I take one look at Morgana’s trembling hands and sigh. “Go back to your chambers and get some rest. I’ll drag Merlin there tomorrow, and we can both interrogate him.”

“You won’t be telling your father about us then?”

I shake my head. “Like that was ever a choice.”

Maybe it was once, but I really don’t see how it could be now. If either of them turns out to be evil, then I’ll take full responsibility. But if they are innocent, like I know that they are, then I’d never forgive myself for turning them in. Perhaps this is the true evil of magic. It forces you to find out where your loyalties really are, even if you’d prefer to never know.

*

Father demands an explanation the moment I walk into the Throne Room. I give him a heavily edited one while trying not to give away exactly what I’ve chosen to conceal from him. If he ever found out… It’s unthinkable. I’ve broken my oath to uphold Camelot’s laws, and I fully intend to continue breaking it. Just a few hours ago, I would never even consider doing such a thing for a sorcerer’s sake, let alone two of them. Yet here I am. Lying to the King and unable to bring myself to regret it.

“You did well today, son,” he says.

I became a traitor to Camelot today.

“Thank you, Father,” I say instead.

Merlin better not be secretly evil, or I really will kill him myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a buffer for this fic, and now I've run out. Hopefully, that won't be a problem by this time next week when I'm scheduled to post the final chapter.


	5. Need to free a dragon

**MERLIN**

There are a number of things you can walk around with in the middle of the castle right after a crisis that nobody would bat an eye at. A golden sword that occasionally glows isn’t one of those things. I give Leon my best disarming grin when he stops to stare at Excalibur. It might be luck. It might be coincidence. It might be fate itself. Whatever it is, I’m grateful that Arthur chooses that moment to stagger (I’m sure he thinks he’s striding) into the corridor, grab my arm, and drag me away from the suspicious knight without a word.

“Why do you still have that?” he hisses.

I shrug and let myself be dragged. “I don’t actually know how I summoned it, so I’m probably going to have to go throw it back into the lake I left it in.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and lets out a noise I’ve only ever heard from a dying donkey, supporting my theory that he’s a royal ass. “Are you incompetent at everything, Merlin, or are you actively trying to be a complete idiot?”

“I saved you, didn’t I?”

“In the stupidest way possible.”

“It’s usually less dramatic.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about what you used to do it?”

“You can just call it what it is, you know,” I point out. “Nobody cursed you to never say magic.”

Arthur makes another inhuman noise, and _I_ start dragging _him_ away from the busy corridors. Knowing my luck, somebody would think he actually has been cursed, and then I’d be blamed for not looking out for him, even though it’s not technically in my official job description to fight dangerous sorcerers. I’m not a knight. Actually, now that Arthur knows, maybe he’ll give me a pay rise for all the lifesaving I do. I’d be able to get a new jacket. This one’s about two fireballs away from being disintegrated. There are only so many times you can magically repair something before it’s irreparable after all.

Speaking of irreparable, there’s something I need to do.

“ _Why_ are you taking me to the dungeons, Merlin?” Arthur asks.

“Need to free a dragon.”

He stops. He’s not sputtering, he’s not moving, and he’s not even breathing.

I poke his arm.

Good news, he starts breathing. Bad news, he turns around and starts walking.

“Arthur.”

And walking.

“Arthur, come on. You’re not going to make me do it by myself?”

And walking.

“I’ll let you keep the sword.”

And stops.

“I hate you,” he says, but considering he’s turning around and not looking like he wants to kill me, I think it might be a lie.

Arthur stalks past me, snatches Excalibur on the way, and manages to choose the right path to the dragon’s cavern.

I scramble to follow him. “In my defence, he made me promise to free him in exchange for telling me how to stop Morgause. I ignored his advice because killing Morgana wasn’t an option, so he’s probably going to be a bit mad, but maybe he’ll feel better now that his nonsense about us being two sides of the same coin and our whole destiny thing together has moved on a bit since we last talked.”

“Are you incapable of making sense?” Arthur snaps.

“Long exposure to a riddle-speaking dragon might’ve had a few side effects. I swear, my magic isn’t making me crazy.”

“Obviously, or Morgana would be crazy too.”

This time I’m the one to stop. “What?”

Arthur pauses on the first step to the dragon’s cavern. “She saw part of your fight with Morgause, cornered me in an alcove, told me about her magic, and was understandably upset about you not helping her.”

Morgana knows. Arthur and Morgana both know now.

“And you didn’t tell the King?” I confirm. “About either of us?”

“Considering that I’m on my way to free a dragon instead of throwing you into the dungeons, I think it’s safe to assume that I’ve already decided on treason.”

I don’t think my grin could possibly get bigger.

“Morgana’s mad at you,” Arthur says, making my smile drop. “Just so you know.”

“I’d rather face her anger over that than be forced to poison her.”

Arthur doesn’t seem to have a response to that. I follow him down the stairs in silence and let my magic build just in case I need to block dragon-fire. The Great Dragon has never reacted well when I ignored his advice in the past, especially when it came to matters of Morgana and her supposed destiny.

“Young warlock, I can still sense the witch,” the dragon’s voice booms as we enter the cavern.

The usual sound of wings follows.

“Decided to go after Morgause instead,” I say, ready to throw a shield up while Arthur just stands there gaping.

“You’ve brought the young king.”

“Father really did trap a dragon under the castle,” Arthur sputters.

The Great Dragon huffs. “It is difficult to believe that someone so ignorant has a destiny so important.”

I cross my arms. “We _are_ here to free you, you know. The least you could do is be a little nicer to the exhausted prat.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur says. “Though you could do without insulting me next time.”

I shrug. “I’m not going to stop acting like myself just because you know about my magic.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like I ever expected otherwise.”

“If you have come here to make another false promise, young warlock…”

“I haven’t. I swore on my mother’s life, remember?”

Arthur makes another strange noise at that. I subtly check him for malicious enchantments.

“What would you do once free?” Arthur asks, pointedly ignoring the way his skin glows odd colours as my check comes up clean.

The Great Dragon rears back. “That is none of your business, Pendragon.”

Arthur scowls. “If you cannot tell me what you intend to do, then how can I trust that my people will be safe from your wrath?”

“The only one who needs worry is your father.”

Something complicated passes over the prat’s face. “Do you swear to do no harm to anyone else within Camelot?”

The dragon laughs. “I wish Uther could hear you now, young king. Yes, I swear.”

Arthur turns to me. “How loyal are dragons to their word?”

“Deals are important to all magical beings, Arthur. We’re bound by our word.”

“We’re?” Arthur repeats. “You’re a warlock. That means you’re still human, right?”

I shrug. “Yes? Probably. Nobody,” and I look at the dragon for that, “has been clear about it.”

“You must discover what it means to be Emrys yourself, young warlock.”

I release my built up magic into a horde of butterflies that I send at the overgrown lizard’s face.

Arthur sighs. “Alright, how are we meant to free you?”

“Excalibur will shatter my chains,” the dragon says.

Arthur just stares blankly.

“The sword,” I say, “it’s called Excalibur.”

“It has a name now?” Arthur asks, but he walks off before I can explain that it had a name before he got his prattish hands all over it, and that’s not going to change now that it’s officially his.

“Where will you go?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the ledge because Arthur’s not the only one feeling the aftereffects of fighting off a sleeping spell while literally fighting someone.

The prat gives me a _look_ for not following him down the stairs. I wave at him.

“It is time I talked with an old friend of mine and found out why he betrayed me,” the dragon says.

I really should know his name by now, but it’s probably too late to ask that. Maybe I’ll just wait for Arthur to ask. If he even remembers that dragons would have names. Honestly, it’s like he knows absolutely nothing about anything magical. I’m going to have to be the one to fix that, aren’t I? Great. I give it a week before he realises that I don’t know that much about magic either. I’d be able to push it to a month if I got Morgana on my side, but I doubt she’d be willing to help with anything right now.

“Will you kill him?” I ask.

“No. He is the only other one who knows what it’s like to be the last of his kind. Perhaps one day you will meet him, young warlock. He would be a powerful ally to have in uniting Albion.”

Arthur chooses that moment to strike the chains with Excalibur. They crumble into dust, which coats the Prince’s clothes. I’m definitely going to need a spell to clean that. There’s no way magic chain dust can come out by hand. Gwen could probably manage it, but she’s magical in a different way. The Great Dragon doesn’t waste time testing his new freedom, sending gusts of wind that almost knock Arthur off his feet. I stifle a laugh at the Prince’s affronted face.

“You’re welcome,” he says, glaring at the dragon.

“You have my gratitude, young king. When the time is right, you will see me again. Until then, I’ll gladly be free of dealing with any Pendragons, legitimate or otherwise.”

Wait, what?

“What did you mean by that?” I shout over the sound of his wings.

The Great Dragon just laughs and leaves.

“Great lot of help you are, you overgrown lizard!”

“ _Mer_ lin, do try to not insult the fire-breathing dragon.”

“I can take him,” I lie.

I’d much rather find a bed to sleep the next two days in, but it’s not like Arthur knows that.

The prat stumbles back up the stairs. “If you’re so willing to fight someone, then how about we go to Morgana’s chambers? I’m sure she’d like to have an important conversation with you.”

I yawn. “You know, I really don’t think it’s appropriate for us to visit a Lady’s chambers just after she’s been through a traumatic event. It’s probably best for us to leave that until next week.”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Two days from now?”

“Tomorrow morning and I’ll let you have the rest of the day off.”

“Deal.”

This whole Arthur _and_ Morgana knowing about my magic might not be too bad after all. I definitely have to tell Gwen now though. It isn’t fair for the most reasonable person in the castle to be left out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leon completely snuck up on me at the start of this chapter. I was going to have a random guard, but then I remembered that it's Season 2, and I couldn't waste an opportunity to have him deal with Merlin and Arthur's combined weirdness, even if it was for just a small moment.


End file.
